


Sugar and spice, and everything nice

by lillaseptember



Series: Time really moves fast [8]
Category: Check Please! (Webcomic)
Genre: Fluff, Future Fic, Kid Fic, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-17
Updated: 2017-01-17
Packaged: 2018-09-18 01:44:51
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,918
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9360116
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lillaseptember/pseuds/lillaseptember
Summary: Jack thought becoming a father would entail having to carry various children off to bed every night.Not his formerly-NCAA-hockey-playing husband.





	

The keys rattled against the door frame, and the hinges squeaked loudly even though Jack, illogically, hushed them not to. After he had closed the door quietly behind him, the lock clicking into place and after placing his bags carefully on the floor beside him, he collapsed against it, closing his eyes and sighing. There had been an ungodly amount of travelling the last couple of days, and he was just grateful to be home again, no matter how late in the night it was.

Happy to be back with his family again.

Who were all, hopefully, already asleep.

“Hi papa,” Karim called from the living room, and Jack supposed he really shouldn’t have been surprised that he was still awake. He _did_ have a penchant for just never going to bed. “Congrats on the win.”

“Thanks,” Jack said as he stepped out of his shoes, slowly dragging a hand down his face, not really sure _which_ win he was referring to. Gently padding into the living room, softly illuminated by whatever it was Karim was watching on the TV, he quietly inquired what he had missed, which Karim assured him wasn’t much. But then his eyebrows scrunched together in confusion.

“Oh, but dad’s… Oh, you’ll see.”

Narrowing his eyes in concern as Karim just turned back to the TV again, he decided to trudge into the kitchen, trying to scrub the worst exhaustion from his eyes on the way. But the sight that greeted him as soon as he crossed over the threshold made him stop short, a smile spreading out across his face and a pleasant warmth rising in his chest.

Bitty was sprawled out all across the kitchen counter, face down in a stack of papers and snoring unflatteringly. Jack rolled his own stiff shoulders as he gently approached, trying not to think too much about how Bitty would complain about his sore back in the morning.

He had always known that Bitty was prone to procrastination, but this was really taking it to a whole other level. And he had to try not to grin _too_ much as he reached out to gently rub at the strained muscles in his husband’s neck, crouching down so he could press his lips close to Bitty’s ear.

“Bits. Bitty. Bitty, you have to go to bed.”

Bitty just whined something incoherently as he shifted against the papers, his cheek endearingly scattered with scrunched impression marks, and then stubbornly refused to move another inch. And Jack had to suppress the urge to kiss him awake.

“Bitty.”

Jack was not quite sure if he ever truly woke up, or else he would have expected a more heartfelt welcome back home. But despite his previous resistance to move, Bitty had curled easily into his embrace as he had carried him up the stairs, and then into their bedroom. He had not opened his eyes even as Jack helped him to crawl under the covers, just sighing sweetly as he settled against his pillows. And Jack had leaned over him to press a tender kiss to his forehead.

Then he had shuffled down the stairs again, removing his tie on the way, and sat down to inspect the mess of papers Bitty had left behind.

“Whatcha doin’?” Karim asked as he also sauntered into the kitchen, TV still blaring softly in the background as Jack had just straightened out the worst wrinkles in one of the documents.

“Whatever it was your dad was doing before he fell asleep.”

“Oh, I think it was some bakery bookkeeping business.”

Jack hummed his agreement as he studied the papers in front of him closer, shrugging his jacket off and rolling up the sleeves of his shirt, trying to settle into an even longer night than he had expected. Quickly shuffling through the papers, he was was glad to see that almost none of it was so pressing that it couldn’t at least wait until the morning. But as he made his way to the bottom of the pile, his eye caught on the brightly colored, old-fashioned post-it note attached to the polished countertop.

_Baking sale @ Juniors, Thursday_

Studying the note for a few moments, Jack slowly realized that it was Wednesday. Which meant that it was Thursday tomorrow. And it was with that dawning realization that he looked back up, scanning the kitchen for any complementary baked goods, but finding none. 

The sigh that involuntarily left his lips were considerably more resigned than he had intended it to be, the night turning out to becoming quite long anyway.

“Do you know what you’re doing papa?” Karim asked carefully, a genuine concern tinting his voice.

Jack made an offended sound, looking up at his oldest one, betrayal stinging at his back.

“Hey, I ran the bakery while dad was home with Chris, remember?”

Karim narrowed his eyes as he inspected him with an amused look.

“...I mostly remember _you_ being home with Chris.”

Jack held his son’s gaze for a little longer, his wounded pride the only thing powering him through it, before he had to admit defeat.

“Yeah, well, I had just retired,” he mumbled while he tried to fight down the fond smile at the memory.

After a long and successful, but admittedly, also wearying and at times _extremely_ painful career, he had dedicated the first few months of his retirement of looking after their newborn son. It had been a blissful time mostly consisting of lazy days just lying around with Chris on the floor, marvelling at every tiny little development he made. 

Neither Jack nor Bitty had ever experienced the slow process of learning how to raise one’s head on their own, the first grab, the squirming process of learning how to crawl, or the first word before. And Jack had much too often missed other significant milestones too; first bicycle rides, league finals, first recitals, regional record settings.

But with Chris, Jack had had an unlimited access to every tiny little step, and he had been in a wonderful awe at the fact.

It was also during this period that Bitty had taken so many photos of Jack lying passed out on the couch in the afternoon sun with a sleeping baby on his chest to fill an entire scrapbook.

And it had been with some reluctance that he had allowed Bitty to stay at home for a few months after that, letting also him spend some precious quality time with their new little wonder. He had hired a temporary baker to help Hannah and Alex out at the bakery meanwhile, but he had asked Jack to look after the _Tidbits_ finances and legal work while he was gone. 

Bitty had phrased it like a favor, when Jack knew that it was really just a way to get him out of the house, and subsequently securing Bitty some alone time with Chris, while also giving him something to do. 

Because it was also during this time that Jack had realized, as officially retired, that for the first time in all his life, he didn’t have a single obligation. Not a single thing that he needed to achieve.

Not a single goal to reach.

And he had liked the work at the bakery. _Tidbits_ was a little universe of its own, run by its own set of rules and logic, and the months Jack had spent there had been maybe the most eventful of his life. But it was also during this time, caught up in ridiculous employee scandals, ludicrous customer orders and incomprehensible salary spreadsheets, that he had realized that he missed hockey.

He had never truly left, though. It was hard, when he was, after all, what they called a “profile”. And it was hard to leave something that was so fundamental to the very way he had always lived his life behind. He still found ways to get an hour or two at the rink most days, he never really forgot the weight of a stick in his hands.

He still coached the kids’ teams.

And even though the thought of staying home all days, every day, with the kids, savoring every little moment and trying to make up for every moment he had missed, the ice still held its allure.

It had been Bitty who had suggested, in a hushed voice as Chris had finally fallen asleep in Jack’s arms late one evening, that he should look into the assistant position that had opened up by the coast.

And that was how Jack had found himself caught up in the circus of late night games, roadies and time differences all over again. 

But he had more freedom and a right to a choice this time around.

Looking up at Karim again, who was still looking at him with a slightly amused expression, he allowed his face to fall into a softly reprimanding glare.

“But I _did_ run the bakery for a few months,” he said, and Karim threw his hands up in defeat, a grin tearing at his lips. Jack smiled himself as he glanced down at the post-it note again, then turning to inspect his son, who had taken to slowly pacing around the kitchen, apparently having forgotten all about his TV show. “You going to bed?”

That made Karim freeze in his tracks, and he seemed to consider the question for a while, before he grimaced and conceded to his own vices.

“Who am I kiddin’, no I’m not.”

“You know how to bake pound cake, right?”

This time it was Karim’s turn to make an offended noise.

“Puh-lease, you _know_ I make ‘em better than dad,” he said, letting his arrogance glare brilliantly for a few seconds, before he deflated and eyed Jack warily. “Please don’t tell him I said that though.”

“Mhm,” Jack hummed distractedly, pretending to be completely engrossed by his paperwork, before quickly glancing up to let his son know that his secret was safe.

And Karim laughed brightly.

* * *

Jack wasn’t quite sure how it had all ended up the way it did, and he was afraid to think about it too much, in fear of realizing what a horrible father he was. But somehow his and Karim’s hastily assembled baking session had turned into a full blown baking palooza in the middle of the night, dragging all the kids out of their beds, even little Chris.

And even though Jack, logically, knew that he really needed to herd them all back to bed, the way Josué’s face lit up when Karim shoved a handful of flour in his hair, Ana and Danielle argued over the best methods of measuring syrup while Min and Becky discussed the best decorations by throwing them at each other, and the way Chris giggled ecstatically at it all, he just couldn’t bring himself to do it.

And he was a horrible, _horrible_ father.

Especially considering it was a school night.

But eventually the flour shoving and cherry tossing and Min’s bright shouts had all grown to be too much, and too loud, and they all froze by the sound of heavy footsteps coming from upstairs. And a few moments later, Bitty came trudging down the stairs, an ominous glare in his eyes as his hair stood on ends, standing pantless and with a blanket wrapped tightly around his shoulders as he just inspected them all for a few moments.

“What’s all this _riot?_ ”

And Jack could only shrug helplessly around his mouthful of cardamom batter.

**Author's Note:**

> This is some post-exam and pre-new semester self-indulgent ridiculousness. Things been crazy lately, and I just needed something short and sweet and silly to try and ease my way into everything again, and as I try and find my routines again. Hopefully I will be able to carve out enough time to work on more substantial stories in the future.
> 
> Because I love!! _Tidbits!!!_ So much!!!!! Like, I did not expect the bakery to develop like this, and grow so much on me, and _believe me_ when I say that it caught me by surprise. I’m slowly planning a bakery special, because goodness me, do I have a lot to tell you about it. ~~But the Holsom story first. I’m gonna finish it or I swear to god.~~


End file.
